


origins of misfortune

by SantaManana



Category: Smoke and Velvet - Cela J
Genre: Gen, I'm feeling the introspective thoughts in this Chili's tonight, Light Angst, i couldn't think of anything else, monstersonas but /make it sad/, please don't mind the cheesy title
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SantaManana/pseuds/SantaManana
Summary: A sort of musings on the three origins you can choose for your character in Cela J's interactive horror novel Smoke & Velvet
Kudos: 3





	1. starting point

**Author's Note:**

> play it here: https://dashingdon.com/play/cjlaray/smoke--velvet/mygame/

**Porcelain**

Your shell cracks open, and gold shines through. Is this divinity, breaking through your skin? Golden blood, like ichor, like Greek Gods? You wouldn't know. Gods are supposed to be immortal. Unbreakable and divine.

But you have always been so fragile.

* * *

**Basilisk**

For humans, they say their eyes are the windows to the soul. But for the basilisk, you aren't sure how this applies. When the others look into your eyes, past the glamour, past the film, past the lies, what is it that they see? Are they petrified out of fear for what's inside of you? Or in Awe? What kind of soul do they see? 

You're not sure if it's worth it to know.

* * *

**Hellhound**

There used to be fire in your heart. Heat and warmth that would coalesce in your chest, travel up your throat, and out your mouth. A light in every breath you took, a spark in your smile. But now it's cold. So cold. There's a hollowness in your chest where your heart is and it hurts and it feels wrong. You try to breathe, to bring back the warmth, but all you feel is ash in your mouth, coating your tongue and choking you. 

The fire went out and the cold came to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which did you choose?


	2. Basilisk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: You are a young basilisk, newly orphaned and out on the streets, fending for your life
> 
> lines are from Dylan Thomas's poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night"

Your Ma used to love poetry. She would read to you, sounding out rhymes and rhythms as she trailed her fingers underneath the words, you in her lap. Her voice, a lullaby, as she traced letters by firelight. A hand on your head, comforting and steady in its pressure as she stroked your hair.

These memories of your Ma reading to you, they come unbidden, intruding into your mind as you fight for your life, snarling and swiping your claws, fangs and forked tongue bared as your back hits the walls and they advance upon you.

_Do not go gentle into that good night._

You try to cram down the memories, unwelcome guests in your mind—why do they always show up at the worst times? 

_Old age should burn and rave at close of day;_

Venom gone from your fangs. No way out, _no way out_. Blood on your claws. Whose is it?

_Rage, rage, rage_.

“I know, Ma,” you say as you wipe away tears from your eyes, blood from your mouth, “it’s all I’ve ever known since you and Momma died.”

_Against the dying of the light._


End file.
